


Inked

by NomadicPixel



Series: Inked [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, F/M, Tattoo Artist Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 21:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20534684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NomadicPixel/pseuds/NomadicPixel
Summary: You’re looking to spread your wings after your divorce, and decide it’s time for your first tattoo.  Better look out, because your artist might like your virgin skin a little too much.





	1. Chapter 1

It has been a long time coming. You had known that your marriage was crumbling for the last couple of years. When you found out your spouse had been cheating on you, you had enough. After six months of pure hell, you’re finally able to call yourself a single woman again.

To celebrate, you decided to leave the old you behind. The old you didn’t dance on tables. The old you wouldn’t smile at a stranger and say hello. And the old you would never ever ever get a tattoo.

But the old you was long gone.

You loved the new you. You been hitting up the gym, taking care of yourself, getting massages and facials, having pedicures, doing all the little things that you let slide in order to take care of somebody else. To put somebody else first.

All the while, that somebody else was busy taking care their assistants needs.

You spent a lot of time researching and deciding what subject and style of tattoo you wanted. You decided something symbolizing a fresh start would be the best celebration of your new singlehood.

You chose Japanese cherry blossoms as your symbol of freedom.

Walking into a tattoo parlor was a bit overwhelming. Initially you mentally likened it to a biker bar. Everyone had tattoos, piercings or unnaturally colored hair.

Your your friend recommended his buddy Steve to be your artist. You’d seen the work that he’d done on Clint and knew whatever he did to you would be beautiful. The line work on Clint’s sleeve was so clean and detailed.

What you didn’t expect was him to be so damn handsome. He was at least 6’4”, with blond hair and bulging biceps covered in intricate line work and bold colors.

He greeted you with a firm handshake and a surprisingly gentle smile. His large hand was warm as it wrapped around yours, instantly putting you at ease. The old you wouldn’t have been turned on by a guy with this much ink. The new you wanted to climb him like a tree.

You went through your consultation on the design and placement and made an appointment appointment for that Friday night.

“You will be my last appointment of the day. Sometimes it’s best to leave extra time for virgin skin,” Steve drawled in a deep, sensual voice, dragging a fingertip up your bare shoulder, circling the location you had decided to Christen. “We don’t know how well you’ll handle the sitting. This way, if you need breaks, you can have them. We can stay as late as we need to.”

You grinned up in appreciation, blushing at the gentle contact. “Won’t your boss be upset if you stay late?”

“Don’t worry about that, Darlin,” he chuckled. “I am the boss.”


	2. Chapter 2

Steve had worked on virgin skin before. He wasn’t a newbie, however, he’d never reacted like this in his entire career. 

Sure, he’d tattooed his fair share of beautiful women, but this was the first time he felt like he’d been seen. Some of them would just look at the ink and nothing more, there for their ‘so cute’ tattoos on their ankles, then would be on their way. Some would admire his physique, and treat him like they’d met him in a bar, touching him whenever and wherever they liked.

This one was different. She blushed when he smiled at her, it was so faint he almost didn’t notice. He could see she was taking her time reviewing his portfolio. She kept everything to the business side, and asked all the right questions, even a few surprising ones.

She was lit from within by fire. Although she was shy, she didn’t let that define her. Her fierce spark pushed her forward, consuming her fear and anxiety.

Steve also noticed a couple other things. He may have noticed the curve of her breast as they chose a proper placement for her tattoo. He may have noticed the sway of her hips as she walked away after their consultation.

He would be the first to mark her. And it brought out a primal fire in him, a burning ache to be the only one to mark her. 

And to mark her as his.

* * *

Clint grinned as walked through the city early that morning. He’d gotten a message from Steve at the break of dawn, saying he was inspired to go for a morning run. Something that Steve hadn’t done since they’d been in the Army together. 

“Oh really?” He texted his immediate response. “What has you all HOT and BOTHERED?”

“🙄. You know DAMN WELL who has me all hot and bothered,” Steve replied.

“Bahahahahah. I asked WHAT, Steve-o. Not WHO,” Clint cackled as he strolled into the coffee shop, ordering two cups of caffeinated goodness.

“🖕🏻.” Steve followed up with a gif, spelling out how he felt in no uncertain terms. 

Clint grinned. He knew that those crazy kids were a good fit.

By the time he rounded the corner to the office, his coffee was gone, and his plan was in place.

* * *

When you arrived at work, Clint was sitting in your desk chair, a cup of coffee in his hands, swinging his legs like a five year old girl.

“So…how did it go? What did you think? Did he finish the design yet?” Clint asked, bouncing in your chair, head flitting left to right as we spoke. He continued before you had a chance to take a breath. “Where are you getting it? Isn’t he handsome? What are you waiting for? When are you getting it? How did it go?”

“CLINT BREATHE!” you interrupted, taking the cup away from him. You looked at the cup, checking the label to see how many shots it contained. “You may want to think of cutting back on your caffeine intake, hon.”

“Oh that one is yours, I’ve already had mine,” he took a deep breath to continue with the questions, and you held up your hand to silence him. 

“Thank you, I see you got my favorite, and I appreciate that.” You motioned for him to move to your guest chair and took your seat, leaning back and taking a big sip of coffee as you crossed your legs.

“I think it went really well,” you began, trying to recall the barrage of questions he had for you. “I love his work, and not only what he’s done on you. His portfolio was magnificent.”

Clint got that evil little twinkle in his eye, opening his mouth to speak.

“Don’t. Even. Think. About. Going. There.”

“You used to be more fun, you know that?”

You replied with a raised eyebrow as you took a long sip of your coffee. “I don’t think you mean that. I think you’re trying to push me into something. I just don’t know what it is yet.”

Clint gasped, hand to chest, exaggerating the motion. “Well I never!”

You rolled your eyes, looking at the detail and color on the edge of his right sleeve tattoo. “Bullshit. You’ve done it seven days a week and twice on Sunday.”

“My little girl is all fired up. Must be something that has you burning. Could it be a handsome tattoo artist with a heart of gold and buns of steel?” he teased, fluttering his eyelashes at you like a southern belle.

You tried to bluff your way out, but became flustered when Clint mentioned Steve’s butt. You had gotten a good look when he bent over to grab one of his portfolios for you. Needless to say you had not been disappointed.

“HA! I knew it! You looked at his ASS!” He screamed, hopping up and down, dancing with his hands in the air.

“Will. You. Please. Shut. The. Hell. Up?” you whisper-yelled at Clint. “Someone might hear you!”

“Oh, is Steve coming here for a visit? You hussy - did you keep him UP all night?” he teased. You knew he didn’t mean it. You hadn’t even kissed another man since the divorce.

“Don’t you have work to do?” you asked, swinging your chair back to your desk, and logging in to your neglected computer.

Clint stood and whispered in your ear. “I sure do,” and walked away, cackling.


	3. Chapter 3

It was perfect.

Steve had presented you with a mock up that was delicate and sweet. It looked so realistic. It seemed to jump off the page. Your finger traced the drawing over and over, mesmerized by the design.

“Do you like it?”

You looked up at Steve, who was practically wringing his hands in front of you. “Like…like’s not the word,” you replied, smiling up at him. “This is a work of art. It’s so dainty and feminine! I love it!”

Steve let out the breath he was holding and shook his finger at you. “You scared the hell out of me little lady!” He leaned back on the black leather couch, stretching his long, thick legs out in front of him. 

You had run over to the shop after work, to review the drawing and book your final appointment.

Clint had teased you when he saw you walking back from the ladies room, with freshly touched up make-up. You simply rolled your eyes at him. Engaging a snarky Clint would take you out of your happy mindset. That was the last thing you wanted. 

Steve booked your appointment for tomorrow, noting that the rest of the shop closes at 8 on Friday nights. “It helps keep the drunks outta here. We don’t need any of that rif-raf,” he looked up at you, winking. “We ARE the rif-raf!”

* * *

He loved the pretty twinkle in your eyes as you laughed. Part of him was excited that you’d be spending Friday night topless and alone in his chair. 

The other part of him was worried that you’d be spending your Friday night topless and alone in his chair.

What if you weren’t interested in him? What if you felt trapped and didn’t want his advances? Steve ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. What should he do?

“What’s wrong?” you asked, placing a hand gently on his thigh. 

He looked down at your hand, and smiled up at you. “You’re a beautiful woman. And I just realized you may not be too comfortable being alone in the shop with me later in the evening.” Steve traced your hand with his index finger. “I was kicking myself and trying to figure out how to bring this up, without making you uncomfortable.”

“While it is extremely kind that you thought about that, I’m not worried. You’re an upstanding guy, you worry about making someone uncomfortable. That shows you’re not the type of guy who is going to take advantage. Plus, Clint has vouched for you. Which I won’t hold against you at all.” you replied, nudging his foot with yours. 

“Besides,” you added. “My father taught me how to defend myself. If you stepped out of line I’d lay you out before you knew what hit ya.” 

* * *

Finally, it was Friday.

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. Steve had told you to dress comfortably, but that was a piece of advise you had to ignore. 

You were dressed in a short skirt, and a flowy top. You knew your top was going to have to come off for the tattoo. You made sure you had your sexiest set of lingerie on, you felt like a goddess. Apparently you were walking like one too.

“Holy hell girl - you’re going to give poor Stevie a heart attack!” Clint yelled, from the other side of the office. 

You tried to duck into your cubicle to hide away from him, to no avail. In moments Clint was sitting on your desk, well, bouncing at least, like he had ants in his pants. 

“You do realize, Clint, that if you keep that shit up, HR is going to make you take another Sexual Harassment seminar.”

“Ha!” he crowed, his shoulders shaking in laughter. “I’d like to see them try. Debbie’s their manager, and she pinches my ass every time she goes by. Trust me when I say, they know better than to push THAT issue.”

“So tell me my dear,” he prompted, leaning forward and crossing his legs, “why you’re wearing the ‘fuck me’ shoes you bought to celebrate your divorce? Planning on enticing my friend with your deviant apparel?”

You sat up straight, facing your computer, and logged in, doing your best to keep an innocent expression on your face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah right. Sure you don’t. Just like you didn’t pair your fuck me heels with a top so low cut he’ll be able to see right down your shirt.”

Your head snapped around. “Wait, what?”

Clint gave you an all knowing grin, leaning back against your cubicle. “I like the purple lace.” he giggled, placing his hand over his heart. “Wait, are you trying to seduce _me_ instead of our darling Steve?”

You grabbed your cardigan from the back of your chair, the one you keep for drafty days, and wrapped it around you, glaring at Clint. “I can’t believe you looked down my shirt.”

He stood up, giving you a side armed hug, and scooted away, calling over the cubicle wall. “It’s not my fault," he chuckled, pointing at your chest. "They told me to look!”


	4. Chapter 4

The commute from work to Steve’s shop made you appreciate your new heels. Many a fashion diva had blathered on about how higher end shoes have great architecture and aren’t nearly as painful. You hadn’t believed them. 

You’d spent every night at home, since your divorce, walking around in your Fuck Me Heels. They were completely broken in, and fit you like a glove. And while it wasn’t like walking on a cloud while angels fed you chocolates, you made it work.

They made you feel taller.

They made you feel fitter.

They made you feel stronger.

They made you feel like a fucking supermodel. 

Did you stumble? Not once.

Did you strut? Hell yes, like you were on a fucking catwalk. Shoulders back, tits out. You had a level of confidence you’d yet to experience since your single days. 

You knew exactly what you wanted. Who you wanted. And damn it, you were going to have him.

You strode into Charlie Foxtrot’s Tattoo Shop like you owned the fucking place.

* * *

Steve glanced up with a smile when he heard the bell above the door ring. _Jesus, she looks like a wet dream come to life! _

He couldn’t help his eyes from roving up and down her form. Her sky-high heels showed off the legs he’d been fantasizing about all week. Her skirt was short enough to taunt him, snug enough that he knew it would be a distraction once he started her tattoo. 

Instead of greeting her like a gentleman, he simply whispered, “wow.”

Her full lips twitched into a smile that could launch a thousand boats. Damn, he had it bad.

“Well hello there, darlin’, welcome to Charlie Foxtrot’s.” Bucky walked into the front of the shop, approaching HIS girl with a predatory look in his eye. "I would be more than happy to…help…you with whatevah you’d like.“

_Better shut this down before this gets outta hand._ He pressed a heavy hand on Buck’s shoulder, squeezing just a little harder than he needed to, and introduced Bucky to HIS latest client. 

"As you can see, she’s already been helped, punk. We’re heading back to my station. Lock the door on the way out, will ya?” Not exactly subtle, but Bucky got the drift of what was going on, raising his hands in the air. 

“No problem, _bossman_. I’ll leave you to it.”

* * *

Steve waited until Bucky locked up and left before he started prepping his station. He chatted with you while he set everything out, talking about sterilization practices as he got everything set up.

He blushed, looking up at you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um…yeah. Did you want to go…change?”

You settled yourself. You wanted that big beast of a man. If he wasn’t going to make a move, dammit, you were. You summoned all the courage you were able to and started unbuttoning your shirt. “If it’s just the two of us…” you trailed off, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. 

Steve picked up a hanger from the wall next to his station and held it out. He was breathing deeply, gazing directly into your eyes.

Your shirt was hung up on the wall in seconds, leaving you in your lacy, somewhat see-through, purple bra. You didn’t miss that Steve was licking his lips. 

And often.

_Score one for Louise Poirier’s Wonderbra magic!_

Steve adjusted the chair so that you could lean forward, straddling the chair. The skirt rode up as you did, with no regrets at the way he was blatantly staring at your ass. 

“How’s the temperature for you? Did you want me to turn up the heat?” Steve’s low tenor practically sounded like a growl as he spoke in your ear. 

You watched him over your shoulder as you unhooked your bra and handed it to him. “I think it’s plenty hot right now, but I’ll let you know if I need a bit more…heat.”

The leather chair was cool against your breasts as you leaned forward, resting your cheek against it as Steve placed the stencil on your right shoulder. 

He raised a mirror for you to check his placement of the purple drawing. “That looks perfect! I can’t wait to see the finished product.”

* * *

Getting a tattoo wasn’t like what you saw in the movies. Some drunk guy stumbling in and sitting perfectly still as someone tickled a rose onto their chest. It certainly didn’t feel like it was being applied with puppy kisses.

No. Just no.

Ink…hurts. You were prepared for a bit of pain. You weren’t prepared for it to be accompanied by the arousal. Normally those things didn’t mix for you. 

It was the look on Steve’s face as he worked, he would get up, walk around, move to a new spot as he approached the tattoo from new angles. He studied you, spoke to you as he applied the ink. Steve warned you when there were particular spots or lines that may be more uncomfortable.

It was his breath on your shoulder. His giant warm body pressing against yours from time to time as he finished his work. The way he looked at your skin with a sense of pride.

* * *

It was getting really…hard…for Steve to finish this tattoo. This was one of his favorite pieces to date. Once the final petal was shaded, he sat back, cleaning her shoulder.

The line work was delicate and feminine, but the bark of the cherry tree was representative of her inner strength. It would bend, but not break. The blossoms flowed, curling up and over her shoulder, perfectly complimenting her physiology.

She’d been a trooper too. Virgins could be a challenge when you got them into the chair. Not knowing how they’d handle the pain. He’d heard the odd hiss, but she kept statue still.

He helped her up to admire the tattoo. He couldn’t help but steal a glance, or twelve, at her breasts.

She surprised him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug, her bare breasts pressing to his chest as she chattered excitedly. “I love it! I almost regret the placement, I’ll barely be able to see it without a mirror. You did a great job! Now I see why Clint says they’re addictive.”

She finished gushing about her piece, took a breath and looked up at him with wide-eyed excitement. Then, taking him off guard, she kissed him firmly on the mouth.

* * *

He hadn’t been expecting it. You knew that much. 

After a moment's pause, his hands cupped your ass and lifted you into the air. Clearly, it wasn’t unwelcome.

“Before we go any further, I’ve gotta say somethin’. You’re beautiful, smart, funny, everything I’m looking for. But I’m not a rebound guy. I’m not a one night stand.”

You cradled his face, brushing your lips against his. “Me neither. As much as Clint pushed me for a rebound guy, that’s not who I am. And I do not…share.”

He grinned at that comment, squeezing you and pulling you tighter to his chest. “Well, now that we have that squared away…I may live right above this shop. And if you want, there may be a nice big soft couch in…”

You quieted him with a kiss. “Yes. There. Now.”

He chuckled, letting out a “Yes, Ma’am.”

You hadn’t counted on him tossing you over his shoulder and running up the stairs at full speed. Granted, it was one hell of a view, but brief. Sadly you missed the opportunity to touch him while you were being trotted up to his place. 

He grabbed his t-shirt by the collar, behind his head, and whipped the shirt up, off, and into a corner of the room. “Thought I should even the playing field a bit.” He bit his lip, giving you another once-over before placing his hand on his belt. 

“This okay?” he seemed almost shy, asking for permission to remove his clothes.

You shook your head. “No, I want to do that part,” you pushed him back to the couch, and, after removing his pants and boxers, pushed him into a seated position. 

“I love a girl who knows what she wants,” he growled, pulling your skirt and panties down to the floor. As you began to step out of the heels, he shook his head.

“Leave the heels on, baby,” he whispered, his voice whiskey sweet and sandpaper rough. 

* * *

God! Steve was big _everywhere_. You were dripping from your core by the time you straddled him. Hell, your panties had been soaked by the time Steve finished applying your stencil. This was just the icing on the cake. 

You eased down on him, wearing your heels and a smile, slowly adjusting to him. He pulled you to him, giving you a kiss that was innocent and sweet, while what you were doing was anything but.

Could he be any more perfect for you?

Gentle kisses peppered your face, neck, shoulders, as he cupped and caressed your breasts. 

“God, you were killing me tonight. I wanted this from the moment you walked in. You had me hard all night,” he moaned into your ear. “You like that, don’t you? Knowing what kinda effect you had on me. Knowin’ I was under your spell,” his hips snapped up, punctuating each sentence.

“Fuck, baby,” he whimpered, as you ground your hips down on him. “I love that I was the first to fuckin’ mark you. You’ll always be mine now, you know that right?”

You drew your tongue along his deltoid, following the tips of the eagle’s wings that crested there, swept open wide across his back. “Yeah. I know,” you breathed. You were so pleasantly full, you couldn’t feel where you ended or where he began. 

His arms circled your waist, standing with you, while still inside you. The pressure was enough to bring you over your brink, screaming as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

He pulled out, letting your legs drop to the ground, and pulled your torso close to his as he peppered you with soft kisses while you came down. “I wanna try something,” he whispered at you, looking at you like he was a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. 

Steve took you by the hand, impishly leading you behind the green and gold couch, and turning you to face it.

Aaaah. You got the drift. You leaned forward, looking at him over your newly tattooed shoulder, and beckoned him closer with a head tilt.

He peppered kisses around the tattoo, careful not to touch any of the carefully applied ointment, and slowly eased into you.

* * *

Seeing his mark on her turned Steve on like nothing else. He tried to go slow, he wanted to make it last, but every time she looked at him over her shoulder, seeing her pretty smile and his ink, it brought out his base instincts.

In no time he was pounding into her sweet heat with no restraint. His hands gripped her hips firmly, keeping her in place. Across the room, in the mirror, he could watch her breasts sway with each thrust. 

She met his eyes in the mirror, licking her lips lasciviously once she noticed him watching. _Fuck, this girl is amazing._

Steve knew he was close, and hell if he was going to come without her. Sliding his hand down to her core, his index finger found her clit, and starting rubbing in circles, timing each rotation with a thrust until she came apart in his arms.

He came apart with her.

* * *

They lay, spent, in his bed, sprawled out together. Her head on Steve’s chest, her shoulder safely up and away from the sheet.

Steve’s fingers traced shapes up and down her spine as he imagined other patterns on her skin. “Do you really think you’ll get another tattoo?”

You planted your chin square on his chest. “Well, if you do this every time you tattoo me, I’m gonna run out of space, real fucking quick.”

“Nah,” he chuckled. “I’m gonna take my time with you, baby.” He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “You don’t rush a masterpiece.”


End file.
